Fire on Ice (Fire on Ice Series) (6 page)

I tried to change the subject. “The game starts at eight. Do you want to meet at the box office?”

She nodded. “That’ll work. I can go straight there from rehearsal.”

“Thank you, Zelda. This means a lot to me.”

“That’s what sisters are for,” she said as she hopped from her seat. “See you Saturday.”

Five

Kian

I took a long sip of my pint and scanned the crowd at O’Sullivan’s. The place was packed for a Thursday but it was also Firestorm Fan Appreciation Night and a few of the guys agreed to make an appearance in exchange for all the beer we could drink.

Runt was already on his fourth beer and we’d only been there an hour.

“Slow down,” I said as he downed half of his pint in one big gulp. “Haven’t you ever heard of pacing yourself?”

He gave me the stink eye. “Moderation is overrated.”

“Don’t forget we have an early practice tomorrow,” I reminded him.

“Yes, mother,” he replied. “And while you’re at it, do you also want to give me a lecture on how many girls I’m allowed to screw tonight?”

“You’re free to screw as many puck bunnies as you can handle.”

“I’m glad you approve.” He downed the rest of the pint in another big gulp. He pointed to the glass. “I’m ready for another. You want one?”

I shook my head. I still had most of my first pint left.

“Lightweight,” he taunted as he headed toward the bar.

The last time I’d been at a bar I met Taylor. It had only been a few days ago but it seemed like I’d known her a lot longer. Maybe it’s because she was all I could think about.

I had texted
her an invite to our game on Saturday but I hadn’t heard anything back and that concerned me. Maybe she had decided I wasn’t worth her time or her pie-faced
friend
Kyle had bad-mouthed me enough that she decided not to see me again. I already hated that prick.

I took another swig of beer and saw a cute little red head with big tits and a killer ass in my line of sight.

Shawna.

She was one of the regulars at O’Sullivan’s and what the fra
nchise owners referred to as a
super fan
. She was one of the moderators of the Firestorm Facebook Fan Page and the marketing department adored her. They put her in charge of a street team, whatever the hell that is, but the marketing gals made it sound important.

Shawna also loved to fuck and she loved to fuck Firestorm players. When a guy used the term
hockey whore
, I’m sure Shawna was one of the first girls that came to mind.

She was wearing a hot pink little number that left very little to the imagination. Not that I hadn’t already seen everything she had to offer—more than a few times.

“Hey, Kian,” Shawna purred as she slinked up to me. “You’re looking especially hot tonight.”

I was wearing my favorite jeans that were well worn but the girls really seemed to like the way they fit. Shawna made a point of eyeing my dick then licking her lips in such a way that sugges
ted a blow job would be a definite possibility.

And Shawna knew what she was doing when it came to gi
ving head.

“I don’t see Runt anywhere,” she commented as she scanned the bar.

“He was just getting a beer,” I replied but when I glanced over at the bar, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Too bad,” she said. “Krystal was looking for him.”

Krystal was another hockey whore who had incredible assets and knew how to use them.

“So,” Shawna said as she closed the distance between us. “Do you want to come back to my place tonight?”

I put my hands in my pockets in an effort to tame the erection that was beginning to build. Shawn was definitely hot and a great lay and I hadn’t gotten a piece in a while. I was definitely tempted.

But something stopped me.

An image of Taylor flashed through my mind. It was her looking up at me with her big brown eyes and giving me her beautiful beaming smile.

“Not tonight,” I heard myself say and I thought my dick was going to scream in protest.

Shawna’s eyes went wide. “What?” she stammered as if she hadn’t heard me correctly.

“I said not tonight,” I repeated even though I knew damn well she heard me the first time.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Shawna’s face was getting red with anger.

“It means go find someone else’s dick to suck tonight,” I snapped.

Her mouth popped opened in horror and I knew I had gone too far. Not that what I said wasn’t true but I could have been a little nicer in the way I said it.

I had a bad habit of being too blunt. I
t had a lot to do with my shitty upbringing but I knew that wasn’t an excuse. Sometimes, I was just an asshole.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” If only I had a way to grab words and shove
them back into my mouth. An invention like that would have saved me a lot of heartache through the years.

“You’re a prick,” she spat. That wasn’t the first time a woman had called me one of the various terms for that part of the male anatomy.

“You’re right,” I agreed.

“I can’t believe you don’t want this.” She made a point of sticking her ample chest in my face.

If it was a week ago, I would have been all over it.

But not now.

Not after meeting Taylor Thompson. The girl had already managed to turn my entire world upside down.

I decided it might be in my best interest and in the best interest of the team to try and take a more gentlemanly approach with Shawna.

“Shawna, it’s not you. You’ve got it all, babe. I’m just really tired. The coach has been riding my ass all week and we’ve got an early practice in the morning.”

That seemed to appease her because she gave me a sly little grin. “Okay, you’re forgiven.” She leaned up and gave me a kiss that felt too wet and sloppy. I didn’t remember Shawna being a bad kisser but I was suddenly comparing her kiss to the amazing, electricity inducing kisses I got from Taylor.

She laid a hand on my chest and eyed me seductively.  “I’ll take a rain check,” she whispered then laid another wet one on my lips.

“Okay,” I said even though I was suddenly turned off by the thought of being with her.

Nothing about Shawna felt right. The way she looked at me with her lifeless pale blue eyes. The way she made my skin
crawl when she placed her hand on my chest. The slight taste of cigarette that dwelled on her lips and the vague cigarette smell that lingered on her clothes made me want to gag.

I just wanted her to go away.

She reminded me how much I wanted to see and touch and taste Taylor again.

“Maybe we can get together after the game Saturday,” she offered.

“Maybe,” I lied in an effort to speed up her departure. The only person I wanted to be with after the game on Saturday was Taylor.

The only problem was that I wasn’t sure if Taylor wanted to be with me. Hell, I wasn’t even sure she was coming to the game and I was too much of a pussy to text her to find out. As it stood, there was still a chance she would be there Saturday night. I wasn’t ready to give up the long shot with a possible refusal.

“See ya later,” Shawna said as she gave my ass a little smack.

I don’t know why it irritated me but it did. Plenty of girls had smacked my ass before and it never fazed me. I guess I just wasn’t in the mood to be
Kian Kavanagh, Hockey Star.

I wanted to be just
Kian.

And I think that’s one of the many things I liked about Ta
ylor. She didn’t want to be with me just because I played hockey and was somewhat of a celebrity. Hell, she didn’t even like hockey. She seemed to want to know the real me and that was a first.

Runt finally made his way back with a fresh pint in hand.

“Where were you?” I asked.

He smirked.
“Getting a beer.”

I raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t take that long to get a beer, especially when you don’t even have to pay.”

“I ran into Krystal. She gave me a blow job in the men’s room.”

“Seriously, dude? Couldn’t you at least take her back to your place?
Or the very least, the back of your car?”

He flipped me off. “You can’t tell me you’ve never gotten head in the men’s room.”

I shook my head. “No, I haven’t.”

“Then you have no idea what you’re missing.”

“Whatever. I think I’m gonna get going.”

Runt looked around the bar. “Shawna was looking for you.”

“She found me.”

He looked puzzled. “Where is she? Isn’t she going home with you?”

“Nah, not tonight.”

“Are you sick?” He grabbed his belly. “That pizza didn’t sit well on my stomach either.”

“I’m not sick. I’m just not in the mood.”

I hadn’t told him about getting together with Taylor. I didn’t think he’d understand. We were both from the same neighbo
rhood and had similar backgrounds. I knew the first thing he’d say was that I had no business going after a rich college girl and he was probably right.

I just didn’t want to hear it.

“Since when is Kian Kavanagh not in the mood to get laid? This has to be a first.”

“It’s no biggie.” I assured him.
“Really.”

His eyes narrowed and it looked like he was thinking. “Som
ething else is going on. It’s not like to you turn down a good lay.”

“I’m tired and I just want to go home and get some sleep. Is that okay with you?” My voice sounded a lot angrier than I expected.

“Alright, dude. Chill. Go home and get some sleep. You obviously need it.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

He gave me a broad smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

***

I was lying awake in bed thinking about Taylor and wondering if I’d actually ever see her again. Was I just deluding myself into believing someone like Taylor, a beautiful rich college girl, who was destined to be a psychologist, would ever want someone like me, a poor kid from a bad neighborhood and a fucked up family, who barely finished high school. She belonged with a dude, who was going to be a doctor or lawyer, someone who could give her a fancy house in the suburbs and 2.5 kids as smart and beautiful as her.

She didn’t need some fucking minor league hockey player, with a fucked up family who was probably carrying fucked up genes. And I’d never actually even been inside a house in the suburbs, so what did I know about owning one?

No matter how hard I tried to convince myself that Taylor was too good for me and that she deserved so much better than me, I just couldn’t let go of the thought of being with her. I knew it was completely crazy but I couldn’t get past the feeling that the two of us belonged together. That we fit together. That we were destined to be together.

So I
sacked up and grabbed my cell phone. I needed to know one way or another if she was going to be at the game Saturday.

I texted her:
Did you get my invitation to the game Saturday?

Then I waited. I realized a little too late that it was already after ten on a school night and she might have already been in bed.

Then I felt like an asshole.

When it only took a few seconds for her to text me back, I exhaled a small sigh of relief. If she was going to blow me off, she probably wouldn’t have bothered to respond.

Taylor:
Yes. I just needed to find someone to go with me
.

Shit. I hope she didn’t ask pie-face along.

Me:
Did you find someone?

Taylor:
Yes, my sister. She likes hockey as much as I do.


I gave a small fist pump in the air. She was going to be at my game and her date was her sister, not another guy. That was great news in so many ways.

Me:
I want to treat you to dinner afterwards
.

Taylor:
Okay, just make sure you pick someplace with plenty of meat. I don’t want you to starve.

That made me smile.

Me:
See you Saturday
.

I lay awake in my bed for the longest time thinking about se
eing Taylor again. Saturday night couldn’t come fast enough.

Six

Taylor

I stood at the ticket window of the newly built arena waiting for my sister. This was the inaugural season for the Firestorm and the tickets for every game were sold out. The owners of the franchise took a lot of heat from the media for bringing a minor league team to such a small city but the residents embraced the team so quickly and thoroughly, it was like hockey mania swept through the sleepy Northern Arizona college town.

I don’t know why I was surprised she was late. Zelda was a
lways late. I guess I was a little upset because she knew this was important to me.

The crowd was starting to flow into the arena, so I glanced at my watch. There were still ten minutes before the game started and I had to assume, much like a movie has coming attractions before the movie you’ve actually paid to see starts, the hockey game would have some kind of pre-game rituals before the actual game started.

I had never been to a professional hockey game before so I had no point of reference. My exposure to hockey was going to see all of Austin’s high school games. I never cared about sports and didn’t particularly care about hockey but I cared enough about Austin to support him when he played.

Too bad that caring only went one way.

When I saw white cotton flowing in the distance, I knew it had to be my sister. Who else would wear a white skirt and blouse to a hockey game? Not that I was dressed much better. Everyone else seemed to be wearing hockey jerseys and jeans. I did the best I could to blend in with my black jeans and black tank top under a flowered blouse. It wasn’t exactly hockey attire but it was the closest thing to casual I had in my closet.

“I can’t wait to see your hockey hunk,” Zelda said as she grabbed my elbow and we headed into the stadium.

“He’s not my hockey hunk,” I corrected.

“But he is a hunk, isn’t he? Otherwise, why are we even here?”

“I guess you could call him a hunk,” I said already exasperated.

“And you want him to be yours, don’t you?” she prodded.

“I suppose,” I admitted.

“Well, there you go.”

Our seats were close to the ice and right behind the players. It was kind of intimidating to be so close to everything.

And a lot colder than I expected.

I should have trusted my gut instincts and brought a jacket with me. I crossed my arms over my chest in an effort to keep myself warm.

“Do you want me to get beer?” my sister asked. “I think you need to loosen up a bit.”

I didn’t drink very often but I wasn’t against it. I just didn’t have much opportunity. I wasn’t exactly a social butterfly.

“Okay,” I agreed finally and my sister grinned.

“I’m really starting to like the new Taylor. Whatever your hockey hunk is doing, he should keep doing it.”

“I told you he’s not
my
hockey hunk,” I repeated.

She actually rolled her eyes at me.
“Whatever you say.” Then she rose and headed toward the concession stand.

I didn’t want to tell my sister that I was uptight
, because being in the arena, looking out at the ice, reminded me so much of Austin. He was the star of our high school’s hockey team and every girl in the school had a crush on him. Boy, did I think it was something special when he asked me out. He could have had any girl in the high school and he chose me.

I didn’t realize until much later that he chose me with a very specific purpose in mind and I fell right into his trap.

I shivered at the memories being in a hockey arena evoked. Would I always link hockey with the hell that Austin put me through? If so, what would that mean for ever having any kind of relationship with Kian?

Music started playing and an announcer said over the loud speaker:
Ladies and Gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to the Wildcats
. There was mild applause for the opposing team with a few boos and heckles thrown in for good measure as the Wildcat players skated on to the ice.

Then the announcer said:
And now give it up for your home team, the Firestorm!
The entire audience jumped to their feet in wild applause. There was hooting, hollering and whistling as the Firestorm players skated out.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the jersey that read K
avanagh (# 23). When he skated by me, he made a point to give me a big grin, which made my heart flutter a bit.

When my sister returned, she handed me a small cup of beer and I noticed she had an extra-large cup for herself.

“Don’t look at my beer like that,” she said defensively. “I’m not driving.”

I frowned. “We both walked over here.”

“And last time I checked you can’t get a ticket for drunk walking. Not that I’d get loaded on one beer.”

“One
enormous
beer,” I corrected.

She moved her eyes to the ice. “So, which one is he?”

“Number 23, Kavanagh.”

She scanned the ice until her eyes fell on
Kian. “He’s huge,” she said. “He’s even bigger than…”

When I glared at her, she didn’t finish her sentence but I knew she was going to say he was bigger than Austin. My one and only ex
was massive at 6 feet and nearly 200 pounds but Kian was even taller and more solid. Kian dominated the ice like a rock star dominates the stage.

I could feel my heart start to race and my pulse started to work overtime as my thoughts kept drifting back to Austin. It had taken me three years to stop thinking about him and ever
ything he did to me and now it was all flooding back.

The first few times
Kian was on the ice, he looked relaxed, like he owned the ice; he seemed a lot more relaxed than I felt sitting there watching. Then about halfway through the first period he made a play that brought the fans out of their seats and the atmosphere in the arena turned electric. The crowd had come to see Kian perform and he didn’t disappoint them. Even though he failed to score, the speed and grace he displayed with the puck put the opposition on the defensive.

During the second period, the entire arena seemed brimmed with tension. Things on the ice were heating up.  An old man seated next to me started listening to a play-by-play on a small radio as the action
was live before us on the ice. The announcer said the Firestorm went on the power play and that Kian quarterbacked several good scoring opportunities.  Apparently his ability to thread the needle and make tape-to-tape passes through defenders was unparalleled.  Just when the fans thought a play had been defended Kian made a seeing-eye pass to an open player.

Late in the second period, I heard the announcer state that
Kian showed a strong two-way play by winning a neutral zone draw then working the forecheck to strip one of the opposition defenders of the puck off the dump in. Kian picked the pocket of the defenseman coming from behind the net and caught the goaltender flat-footed for what looked to be an easy goal.  I heard fans sitting behind me as they raved about the tenacity, skill and hard work it took to make the play, and then the soft goal scorer’s hands it took to beat the goaltender high on the short side.

Things were happening quickly and there was a lot going on I didn’t understand but between the other fans comments and the radio announcer’s commentary, I tried my best to keep up with the game.

During the third period Kian seemed to really be in a zone. The announcer said that he scored off a broken play at his own blue line, where he beat the opposition defense man to a loose puck and was ahead in the foot race to the goal.  Kian teed up a slap shot at the top of the circle that completely overpowered the goaltender.  I heard the coach of the Firestorm say to his assistant that the shot was a big league blast that no one would have stopped.  Just past the fifteen minute mark of the third period Kian decided to take things into his own hands and wow the crowd. 

I listened more intently as the announcer said the Wildcats had dumped the puck into the Firestorm zone to make a change allowing the Firestorm defenseman to set
up behind his own goal for the breakout.  Kian skated behind the net taking the puck.  He beat one forechecker just inside his own blue line, then another around the center line.  He skated to the off wing boards where the last forward attempted to check him then slid the puck through the defender’s skates and ducked the attempted check.  He regained the puck and cut across the blue line as the first of the two defense men attempted to chase down the puck.  Kian put the puck out in front of himself, hoping the defenseman would bite and go after the loose biscuit.  As the defenseman made his move toward the puck, Kian reached out with one hand on his stick and expertly pulled the puck into his skates.  As the defenseman changed tack and attempted to hit Kian he used his skate to kick the puck past the stunned defenseman and break in on the goaltender.  The off side defenseman came diving across, attempting to break up the play, but Kian used a toe drag move to elude the sliding player. 

With only the goaltender to beat,
Kian’s eyes were on the prize.  He unleashed a wicked wrist shot that rang off the post and into the top corner of the goal.  The crowd went crazy and hats rained down from the stands, recognizing Kian’s third goal of the game. Apparently, they were acknowledging the tradition of the hat trick.

After being mobbed by his teammates
Kian retrieved the puck from the net and skated toward the Firestorm bench to high five the rest of his teammates.  As he approached the glass where Zelda and I were seated he tossed the puck over the glass to me and winked on his way by.  He had sent the building into a state of frenzy but that wink let me know he was still thinking about me.

By the time the Firestorm lined up for a defensive zone faceoff, I felt dizzy from all of the craziness and excitement of the game and needed to get some air. Between the overwhelming anxiety I felt as my thoughts drifted back to Austin and the awful end to my senior year of high school, and
the fervor Mr. Fire on Ice was creating in the arena, I had had enough.

“I need to get some air,” I said to my sister, who to my su
rprise was engrossed in the game.

“What?” she nearly screamed.
“Now? There are only a few minutes left in the game.”

“Yes, now.” I insisted. Not only was I a bundle of raw nerves, I was starting to feel like I
could pass out at any moment.

“Do you want me to go with you?” My sister looked at me with concern in her eyes.

“No, just meet me out by the ticket window. You should watch the rest of the game.”

“Okay,” she said but her eyes were already
back on the ice.

I pushed my way past the people in the seats between me and
the aisle and then headed up the stairs toward the exit. I didn’t see what happened but I heard the crowd moan as the Wildcats scored. I could hear the broadcast on the radio at the popcorn stand and the play-by-play guy said Kian had stood up in the face off dot allowing the Wildcat center to win the draw cleanly.  According to the commentator Kian remained standing like a statue in the faceoff circle as the Wildcat scored. As I made my way through the crowd, I could hear guys shouting. “
What the hell was that?
”; “
What are you doing Kavanagh
?” and “
Get your head in the game, 23
.”

I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that
Kian had seen me get up to leave and it had distracted him. 

I nearly fell over a few peoples’ feet as I rushed out of the arena in an attempt to escape. By the time I got outside, I could feel sweat pouring down my face as I tried to take a few calming breaths of the fresh fall air.

Tears began to stream down my face as I realized I was still trying to run from my past. I was still trying to escape the pain of my senior year and Austin’s betrayal. Being in the arena seemed to trigger all kinds of emotions in me that I had tried desperately to bury deep inside.

As the crowds started to file out of the arena, I scanned the sea of people looking for Zelda. By the looks on their faces, I assumed that whatever happened with
Kian when I left had been rectified. The fans were all smiles.

Finally, I spotted my sister’s white skirt and I waved so she could see me. As soon as she spotted me, she hurried over to my side.

“Are you okay?” she asked, worry lining her face.

“Honestly,” I replied. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, you better get sure because Kavanagh almost lost the game because of you.”

“What?” I stammered.

“Kavanagh must have been watching you because the minute you got up and left, he totally fucked up. Luckily, he got his head back in the game and scored the final goal and they won. Some of these fans might have taken out their anger on you if they had lost.”

“I’m sorry. I just had to get out of there. I kept having flas
hbacks of everything that happened with Austin.”

“For someone who wants to be a psychologist, you don’t do very well when it comes to your own mental health.”